


Bachelor of the Year

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Announcements, Arguing, Bachelor Auction, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Coming Out, Embarrassment, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Marcky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 22:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3505187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is sick of Nicky constantly refusing to reveal their relationship and puts an end to it.  Nicky will do whatever it takes to make it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bachelor of the Year

A bachelor auction. It certainly hadn’t been his idea. Some conspiring between Louis, Simon, and the Comic Relief people, and it was all set, except for his permission. Which they most definitely didn’t have, but it obviously didn’t make much difference, because here he was, standing staring at a sharp black suit that he definitely wouldn’t have picked under his own steam. They wore the fucking things every day, so it wasn’t as if he was desperately itching to try it on. But then, it wasn’t as if there was any choice. He could remember the conversation with Louis very clearly.

“Do I _have_ to?”  
“Yes.”

Apparently it was good publicity, and as they’d already been asked, it would be the opposite if he refused. The fact that he _wasn’t_ a bachelor made no difference because nobody actually knew that. To everybody but his closest friends he was Mr. Free-and-Single, with no attachments, no responsibilities, and no commitments. That hadn’t been his choice either.

He’d been angling to go public for ages now because, as much as he enjoyed his private life, there was way too much sneaking around going on. They were going to get found out sooner or later – an awful lot of close calls made that apparent – and in his opinion it was better to be found out on purpose than accidentally, where all sorts of wildly pessimistic rumours could be spread. He could just see it now. A grainy black and white photo of the two of them down a dank alleyway, Nicky’s hand twisted in Mark’s hair, while the other followed Mark’s in a determinedly southward journey. It would look so _sleazy_ , and that was the last thing he wanted. They were nothing like that.

Well, sometimes they were, but it was all done with love. Or it had been. Sometimes Mark wasn’t so sure. Because Nicky had never shown any inclination of going public, even though he knew how much it meant to Mark. Mark had tried everything. Ultimatums hadn’t worked, sitting down and talking hadn’t, and arguing hadn’t. And he didn’t know that anything ever would.

“Ooh, nice suit!”

“Shut up.” Mark groaned, sitting down next to the offending garments and glaring at them, as if it would make the whole problem disappear. He heard Nicky laugh, the blonde’s bare feet stopping in front of him, rocking back and forth mockingly.

“Go away, Nicky.”

The feet abruptly stilled, and Mark looked up to see Nicky frowning a little. The bed rolled beneath he and the horrible suit as Nicky sat down next to him, the weight of an arm draping around Mark’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Mark sighed. They were just words, he’d heard them a million times before, and Nicky had never shown enough remorse to change anything about the situation. “Yeah.”

“I really am.”

“I know.”

“Mark...”

“Just... don’t worry about it.” Mark stood, brushing Nicky’s hand from his shoulder. He stood for a moment, not sure where to go, and that momentary lapse was enough for Nicky to stand and wrap his arms around Mark’s waist.

“Marky... I honestly am sorry. If there was anything I could do, I...”

“Fucking tell them then!” Mark spun back, glaring into Nicky’s shocked face. “Look, I... I understand, I really do, but... I just don’t think I can...” He sighed, wanting to look away but deciding not to. He had to be clear about this. He looked Nicky straight in the eye.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Nicky released him and took a step back, as if punched.

“But...” He trailed off, dropping down next to Mark’s hideous suit. “But you can’t! I love you!”

“I love you too.” Mark looked down at his hands, unable to hold his eyes up anymore beneath the weight of brimming tears. “But it’s not enough anymore. See, the others don’t care, they’d let us come out in a heartbeat, but you... you talk about us not coming out because of what the press will think, what the public will think. The fans. But... it’s never about _me_. I want to come out because I love you, and I don’t want to hide anymore. But it’s like you’re ashamed of me and I... I won’t take it anymore. Not from you.” He looked up, quite proud of himself for not letting his voice tremble too much, although it had felt ready to falter at the end.

“I’m sorry Nicky.”

“But babe...”

Mark’s eyes closed at the term of endearment, thinking that this was finally the turning point. He might never hear Nicky say that again, not to him. Never hear it panted beneath him as they made love, never hear it tacked onto the end of a request for a drink, never hear it said when they were coming down from the end of a silly fight after all the steam had been let out and they were willing to be civil again. This might be the last fight they ever had, except it wasn’t a fight. Mark wouldn’t yell or throw things. He would be honest, and then he would leave.

“Don’t... call me that. It’s over Nicky.”

Nicky was silent for a moment, looking down at his rapidly twisting fingers, and Mark could almost see his words being turned around in the blonde’s head. Jesus, he knew Nicky so well he could tell what he was thinking, but even that wasn’t enough. Because he wasn’t so sure that Nicky had ever thought of him the same way he thought about Nicky.

“It can’t be over.” There were no tears in Nicky’s eyes, drawn back by the firmly clenched jaw. It released as Nicky ran his tongue over his upper lip and then clenched again, Nicky blinking hard. “Mark... please don’t do this to me. I need you.”

“No you don’t.” Mark replied. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “You never have.”

“Marky...”

“It’s over.” He reached over to pick up the horrid suit, slinging it awkwardly over his shoulder as he headed for the bathroom door. “We’re running late. I’ll see you downstairs, yeah?”

He shut the door behind him, cold feet stopping on the colder tiles as he stared at the opposite wall, just listening to the silence.

It was when the silence finally broke, Nicky’s feet clomping heavily past the bathroom, the heavy hotel door slamming behind him, that Mark couldn’t hold it in anymore and collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming unstoppably down his crumpling face.

 

*

 

Mark stood awkwardly in the ballroom three hours later, tugging nervously at the constricting collar of his shirt. He’d slipped the tie loose ages ago, but it hadn’t worked in the slightest. The black wool trousers were only the tiniest bit too loose in the waist, and the slowly slipping crotch was rubbing at his inner thighs. As well as that, the jacket was way too hot for the heated ballroom. He was incredibly uncomfortable, and Nicky’s stare wasn’t helping in the slightest.

“Heard you’re an authentic bachelor tonight.” Mark looked up as Shane sidled up next to him, hands tucked deep in his pockets. Mark nodded sadly, feeling blue eyes burning into his back from across the room. “Jesus, I’m sorry so mate.”

“Well, you know. Chin up.” Mark attempted, trying to be nonchalant. “No point crying over spilt milk and all that.”

Shane wasn’t fooled. “I’m really sorry.” Mark shrugged. “You know if you need to talk about anything, then...”

“Yeah. I know.” Mark nodded, glancing over to see Kian sitting down next to Nicky, looking as though he was about to launch into a very similar speech. “But, like, I’m the one who ended it, I guess, so...” He shook his head. They shouldn’t be trying to help him, it had been his decision after all, no matter how devastated he was feeling.

“I understand though.” Shane replied. “It must have been just as hard for you, and I know how things have been and I’m just... I’m sorry, mate. I really really am. Thought you two were a sure thing.”

“Me too.” It was true; in the beginning he had thought that. They had so much in common, got on so well, but he’d grown up since then. The naivety had disappeared with experience, experience that had told him that being good friends wasn’t everything. They hadn’t been good for each other in the end, tiny fights escalating way past what they should have been, most originating from their disagreement over that one critical issue. It had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Thanks Shay.” Gillian was rocking impatiently on the other side of the room, but blew him a sympathetic kiss when Mark looked up, making him smile at her. “Think your wife’s starting to get a bit antsy. I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe you could bid for me.”

“No thanks mate, I don’t want ya!” Shane joked, clapping Mark on the back as he disappeared into the crowd and over to Gillian, who whispered something in his ear, looking furtively in Mark’s direction. Mark waved gently before disappearing into the crowd. He really didn’t want the sympathy right now.

“Ladies and gentleman, it’s time for the bachelor auction.” Mark groaned to himself a few minutes later as all the female ears in the room perked up at Cat Deeley’s words, and he buried his face in his arms, shutting his eyes against the cold wood of the bar. A few taunting laughs from the attached men in the room sounded out and he groaned again.

“Okay, ladies, you all know the rules. Bids start at twenty pounds, and remember this _is_ for charity, so dig deep. If you win your man, then all you get is the pleasure of the company for the night, nothing else implied. Anything else is up to the happy couple.” Cat winked, and there was a smattering of laughter. Mark could think of nothing worse, spending the evening with some pathetic girl, fawning all over him. He didn’t even _like_ women, for god’s sakes.

The first lot, some chiselled soap star, was called up, and Mark sighed as he watched the man prance around stage, showing of the goods. He didn’t know how he could do that, get up there and look appealing. It was going to be a complete and utter embarrassment.

Taking his drink, he began to head across the room, eyes fixed on the stage as the other man pranced about, Mark at least trying to take notes so he didn’t make an arse of himself. He was watching so intently, in fact, that he barely noticed the person coming in the other direction.

“Shit!” He yelped as they collided, dodging sideways before their drinks could splash all down the front of his suit, and make it even more uncomfortable than it already was. He heard an equally indignant, yet familiar, curse, and looked up into the one pair of eyes that had been trying to avoid him all night. They blinked, then narrowed in recognition.

“Mark.”

“Shit, I’m sor...” He trailed off at the scowl on Nicky’s face and sighed. “Look, are you just going to avoid me forever?”

Nicky’s lips tightened, and Mark looked away, ready to make his departure. He was surprised, then, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“No. I expect we should try to be civilized, shouldn’t we?”

“I guess so.” Mark smiled tentatively, dropping it when it wasn’t returned. “Look, I’m sorry but I had to. It was just too hard...”

“I loved you.” Nicky said quietly, his voice inaudible to everyone but Mark, drowned out by the commotion of cheers as the second bachelor was purchased by a blonde girl with enormous breasts, a huge grin on his face as he approached his new owner. “I still love you, I...” He shook his head. “You don’t think it was hard for me?”

“Then why didn’t you ever _do_ anything?”

“Because...” He trailed off, looking lost, and Mark just couldn’t take it anymore. It was the same old story. Nicky would tell him how much he supposedly loved him and wheedle his way back in, but was the use? Every single time it was the same. They’d retain a semblance of happiness for the next month or so, and then it would happen all over again. And Mark was sick of it.

“Can’t think of an excuse?” He rolled his eyes, shoving away through the crowd, not looking at Nicky’s face as he did. It would be the same thing as always, that pitiful little pout, trying to act like a puppy so Mark would forgive him. But Mark didn’t care any more.

“Lot number 5.” Cat looked expectantly out into the crowd as she read from her list. “Mark Feehily.” Mark froze, mid-stalk. “Come on up here Mark!”

Turning, he carefully pushed his way up to the stage, Nicky erased from his mind as he smiled nervously at Cat, his fingers already inching for his pockets.

“Lot number five is a blue-eyed brunette. He’s 5 foot 11, and enjoys singing, tennis, listening to music, and chilling out. His dislikes include narrow-minded people...” Cat rattled on for a few more seconds, reciting Mark’s own life back to him like a recipe. “Can I hear twenty quid?”

“Twenty!” Was immediately screamed out by a dark-haired girl in the front row, and Mark blushed as a twenty-five immediately followed it.

“Thirty!”

“Thirty-five!”

“Forty!”

“Forty-five!”

“Fifty!”

“Fifty-five!”

“Sixty!”

Within minutes, the bid was up to a hundred and seventy and still going. Mark stood in shock. He’d not expected to go for more than fifty quid, although it was for charity so maybe people were digging deep for a good cause.

“A hundred and... ninety three!” The brunette who had bid first jumped up and down, holding up the contents of her wallet. It was mainly between her and a thirty-ish blonde woman who had shoved her way to the front shortly after the bidding had started. They were glaring daggers at each other and Mark would have found it hysterical had it not been for the complete and utter terror he was feeling.

“A hundred and ninety five!”

“Five thousand!”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as all heads turned to the voice from the back, the two main bidders deflating at that unbeatable bid. There, at the back, on top of a bar stool to increase his height, stood Nicky, arms flailing a little as he tried to keep his balance.

Cat blinked in shock, but Mark didn’t see it, he was too busy staring in disbelief at Nicky, his heart hammering faster that he ever thought possible. What the fuck did Nicky think he was doing?

“Erm... can I hear... um...” She shrugged as whispers shivered across the room, her eyes flicking between the two of them. “Sold, I guess.” She said finally. “Lot number five goes to the blonde Westlifer standing on the barstool.” She banged the gavel, looking quite proud of herself for getting through that with a minimum of embarrassment as Nicky headed for the stage.

“Thanks Cat.” Nicky reached out for Mark’s hand, but as their fingers brushed, Mark snapped it back, shaking his head as he took a step backwards. “Mark, come on.”

“No.” Mark glared back. “Nicky I... what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“My bit for charity.” Nicky smiled, and Mark felt an angry roll of bile rise in his throat as Nicky reached for him again. Mark slapped it away. “Mark?”

“You... bastard. Is that it? For charity?”

“Well obviously I...” Nicky looked unsure now, and Mark backed towards the steps, looking Nicky straight in the eye.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” He growled, before spinning on his heel and striding down the steps, not looking back as he stalked through the shocked crowd, shoving people aside with no regard, and bursting through the ballroom doors. The lobby disappeared beneath his feet and he caught his breath as he burst into the stingingly cold air outside, his fingers immediately going numb.

“Mark! Wait!” He was already halfway down the packed street when the call came.

“Fuck off!” He yelled back, not breaking his stride. He could hear people being shoved aside behind him but he paid them no heed, just kept walking steadily.

“Mark, look... we can talk about this!” Nicky dashed in front of him, but Mark pushed him aside. “You don’t understand, I... I didn’t just do it for charity, I...”

“Did it to prove something?” Mark spat. “What? That you had heaps of money? That you could just... throw me about and not worry about the way I feel? God, this was the problem in the first place! Why couldn’t you just leave me alone!”

“Mark I did it because...” He trailed off, looking nervously at the people that surrounded them.

“Alright.” Mark stopped abruptly, causing Nicky to back-pedal a little. “Out with it! Why the fuck did you think you could do that to me?”

“Because...” Nicky swallowed. “Because I love you.”

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“No, I mean...” Nicky jammed his hands deep in his pockets. “I mean I really love you. You were right.” He said quietly, as if the words were poison to him. Out of everybody, Mark knew the most how hard it was for him to admit that he was wrong. “I was being selfish. I knew how much it meant to you and I just didn’t listen. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late for that.” Mark whispered, looking down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Nicky, but I just can’t do this again.”

“I’ll tell everyone. I will. I’ll take a fucking ad out in the paper. Anything.” Nicky gripped Mark’s shoulders, not letting him pull away. “Please! Those few hours were hell. I can’t be without you the rest of my life. I need you, Marky. I could never ever be ashamed of you. I love you too much."

Mark swallowed past the lump in his throat. Nicky was finally saying what he’d wanted to hear forever, but it had come just that little bit too late. It was over between them. And where was the guarantee? Nicky had said he would tell before. Soon. Later. When the time was right. But it had never happened. He honestly thought it would kill him if he did this again. But a life without Nicky... that could be just as bad.

“Nicky... just leave me alone.”

“Okay.” Nicky said finally, taking a step back. “But just let me do something first.”

Mark watched as Nicky dashed up the stairs of the hotel behind them and climbed up onto the base of a lamppost, looking like a bizarre version of Singing in the Rain. Lifting his head as high as possible, Nicky looked around at the enormous crowd of people bustling about as they tried to find the best sales. Mark watched in confusion. What the hell did Nicky think he was doing?

“Oi!” Nicky yelled at the top of his lungs, drawing a few odd stares, and one or two gasps of recognition. But for the most part, the crowd kept pushing along determinedly, eyes only on the lit up shop windows. “Hey, excuse me!” Nicky tried again.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mark ground out as Nicky looked about expectantly. He was cut off by Nicky’s continuing yell.

“MY NAME IS NICKY BYRNE FROM WESTLIFE AND I AM DESPERATELY IN LOVE WITH MY BANDMATE MARK FEEHILY AND WANT TO SPEND THE REST OF MY LIFE WITH HIM! AND YOU CAN FOOKIN' QUOTE ME ON THAT!”

Mark stood wide-eyed in shock as surprised murmurings spread throughout the still-moving crowd. Somebody whistled, another cheered, someone muttered something about ‘those damn kids’.

“Nicky!” He hissed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making an announcement.” Nicky replied, jumping down and looking at Mark expectantly. Mark shook his head, not sure what to think. “Mark.” Mark’s unresisting hand was taken in Nicky’s urgent grip and squeezed tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, that I was selfish. I love you so much and I truly am sorry for everything I’ve ever done to hurt you. Please please please take me back. I couldn’t live without you.”

“Nicky...” Mark stepped back, looking cautiously at Nicky. There was so much honesty in his eyes, but Mark couldn’t help feel a little cheated that it had taken this for Nicky to understand how he was feeling. What would it take next time? But at the same time, he couldn’t believe that Nicky had done this. Bid on him in front of celebrities, special guests, _journalists_ for fucks sakes. Followed him into the street, made an announcement for everyone to hear. Not even done the sensible thing and scheduled a press conference. Just done it, because he knew how much it meant to Mark, and because he loved him this much.

Nicky had done it because he loved him, because he would give everything for him. Sure, Nicky was selfish and thoughtless at times, but that was part of who he was, and one of the things that Mark loved about him. Nicky loved him that much to offer the rest of his life; no hiding, no secrets. Just love.

Mark thought he could live with that.


End file.
